Amanda had left the campfire to prepare for bed. Chad watched her surreptitiously for a bit as she fussed with the blankets he'd bought to find one for her use. Ella Mae had brought her a bucket of water. She used it to wash the dust from the day off her face and neck, but then took it with her behind the wagon for a bit more privacy.

He was finding her more and more lovely with each passing day. He hoped he wasn't getting smitten-not yet anyway. With no encouragement coming from her other than a few smiles, and those had been passed out to others as well, not just him, he still didn't know whether he stood a chance in hell of gaining her affections.

Usually there were clues, lots of them, small subtle ways a woman let a man know she was interested in him. He'd never been in doubt about a woman's interest, well, certainly not for this long. Of course, he hadn't been obvious about his interest in her either. He had decided to wait before making any move on her, so maybe she was keeping her own feelings firmly under wraps until he started dropping some clues of his own.

With Amanda gone from sight, he glanced back toward the campfire and was surprised to find himself alone with the spinster. The fire was reflected in both lenses of her spectacles, two miniature campfires in exact detail. It looked most odd, but then she always looked odd with those spectacles shoved so far up the bridge of her nose.

She seemed tired tonight, even though she had chosen not to ride a horse today after all, since the carriage had more than enough room for both sisters. He still grudgingly admired her gumption over that, to be willing to ride a horse, when apparently neither sister had ever sat on one before. He had briefly thought about teaching her how, once they were at the ranch, but then gave himself a mental kick for even vaguely considering it. The more distance he kept from her, the better for him.

He'd made a pot of coffee—a habit from those long late-night watches over a herd being taken to market. He figured only he'd be drinking it, so he hadn't made much. But she'd poured herself a cup when he wasn't looking and had set it near the fire to keep it warm.

He glanced away, not wanting to encourage conversation with her if he could help it. But out of the corner of his eye he saw her reach for her cup, and almost stick her hand into the fire instead.

He shook his head, stared right at her, and said, "You need to find yourself a new eye doctor. Trenton just happens to have one."

Her eyes moved to him, then back to the cup she'd managed to get hold of. "There's nothing wrong with my vision," she replied indignantly.

"You're as blind as a bat."

"What an unkind thing to say," she said with a humph.

"You get top honors on unkind remarks, Missy. I'm just stating the obvious."

"Which isn't the least bit true."

"Isn't it? How many fingers am I holding up?" When she said nothing, he added, "Uh-huh, I rest my case."

She lowered her head a bit, conceding, he thought, until she replied triumphantly, "Three."

He mumbled under his breath. "You were guessing."

"And you have trouble admitting when you're wrong, don't you?"

"When's the last time you had your eyes checked?" he countered. "To go by those antiquated spectacles you wear, it was probably when you were a child. What can it hurt to have a new exam?"

He thought he was being helpful, but even in the dim light of the campfire he could see her blush.

And her hiss was further indication that he'd hit a sore spot.

"My eyesight isn't a concern of yours. And you have got to stop talking to me before she notices and—"

She stopped, looked immensely flustered, as if she'd said something she shouldn't have. Chad leaned back on his bedroll, resting on one elbow. He was only mildly curious. Well, that wasn't exactly true, but he hoped he was giving her that impression.

"She? She who?"

"Never mind."

"Then let's get back to your eyes."

"You don't listen very well, do you?"

"Sure I do. I heard something about not talking to you anymore, but since you don't care to elaborate, then it can't be very important."

"Trust me, Mr. Kinkaid, this is one can of beans you don't want to open."

He raised a brow. Did she have a real concern— or was she setting him up for another outlandish insult?

He laid on his Texas drawl a bit thick, "Well now, darlin', you've managed to prick my interest—"

"Too bad."

It was a gift she had, how easily she could annoy a man. He sat up stiffly. He jammed a stick into the fire to stir it up, added a few more thick branches so it would last through the night.

"Thank you," he thought he heard her say, though he couldn't imagine why.

She got around to telling him when he pointed out, "You could have just walked away."

"I happen to be chilled, have been for the last hour. I'm not sure why. The night isn't that cold. But I was trying to get warm by the fire before I went to bed. You could have walked away though, or at least stop making it so obvious that we're having a conversation."

"I'm not dumb. My bed is here next to the fire, and I'm already in it and staying in it. So why don't you just cut to the meat and tell me what the problem is?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I probably would, but since you're too embarrassed to explain—"

"I'm not embarrassed," she cut in. "I was merely trying to save you some—"

When she didn't continue, he suggested, "Confusion? Aggravation? Good job, lady, you've really managed to save me a lot of both."

Since his sarcasm couldn't have gotten much heavier, it wasn't surprising that she was back to blushing enough to burn a barn down. But he'd managed to annoy her, too, enough to get her to spill the beans.

"Very well, our 'talking' is likely to give Amanda the wrong impression. If she thought, for even a minute, that I liked you—which I don't, mind you," she was quick to add. "But if she thought it, she'd turn her charm on you to win you for herself. She'd do it not because she likes you—and I have no idea if she does or doesn't—she'd do it just to spite me."

She'd managed to amaze him. He'd never heard of anything so silly, but then he should have suspected that something absurd like that would come out of her, considering how wild her imagination was.

"Gotcha. So all it takes to gain her interest is to pretend an interest in you. Sounds pretty easy. I'll keep it in mind."

She stared at him hard for a moment before she said, "You know, I think I'd rather freeze than continue this conversation. You've been warned. Proceed at your own risk."

He smiled. "I always do, darlin'."

Chapter 14

"YOU GONNA COME ALONG quiet-like, so I don have to bash your head none?"

The question was a gruff whisper. Marian was surprised she even heard it since it was muttered quite a distance away and not to her. But she'd been unable to sleep after that aggravating conversation with Chad after dinner.

It had infuriated her, really, how pleased he'd looked upon hearing her explanation, as if he were already thinking of using that ploy to gain Amanda's attention. She'd felt like kicking him. She certainly hadn't felt like talking to him anymore.

She was still castigating herself for revealing the truth about Amanda, which she'd never done before, and for thinking Chad was smart enough to have figured out by now that Amanda was better avoided than pursued.

Now, awake, and sharing a blanket with Ella Mae on the hard ground under the wagon, every little sound was gaining her notice, especially that ominous whisper...

Except she hadn't heard the stranger enter their camp. He'd gotten all the way to the campfire where Chad was sleeping, was leaning over him, had spoken to him, and had gotten there without making a single sound.

She could see him clearly from where she was lying under the wagon. He was really big, wide as well as tall, could easily weigh three hundred pounds. He looked wild, at least very uncivilized, clothes filthy, a thick bearskin coat, long gray-brown hair so matted, he probably hadn't seen a comb in the last ten years. And she could smell the stink. He'd brought the odor with him.

Chad had to be awake by now, though he hadn't moved and wasn't giving any indication that he'd heard the question. The giant mountain man got impatient for a response, thumped him hard on the chest with the butt of his pistol.

"You hear me, boy?"

"If I didn't," Chad replied dryly, "I could sure smell you—boy."

A chuckle. "You know me. I've worked for your pa before. You know I don' want to hurt you none if I don' have to. But you will be coming with me. Means five hundred to me. Means I'll be spending a nice warm winter this year, and I do favor warm winters at my age."

"I'll match that price if you take your stink elsewhere."

"Now that won't rightly do 'cause I gave your pa my word that I'd have you home 'fore morning. Have to keep my word, boy, you understand. It's a matter of trust—and more jobs when I need 'em."

"And pretty pointless. He knows where to find me now. He can come to me."

"I reckon he don' want to," the giant replied. "Matter of pride, you know. After all, you're the one that hightailed it, not him."

"You don't know anything about it, Leroy," Chad said with a degree of disgust.

"I don' need to know, don' get paid to know. Now are you coming—?"

A sigh. "I'd oblige you, if I didn't have women here that can't be left alone. And no, you're not dragging them another ten miles out of the way when they're only a few more hours from home. You can tell my pa I'll come by to see him sometime next week."